


Of Birthdays and Positive Feelings

by stellarel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24773881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarel/pseuds/stellarel
Summary: The Doctor is sad.The TARDIS helps.A birthday cake always helps, right?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Of Birthdays and Positive Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Being the disaster I am, I learned that it's Jodie's birthday and immediately had to write a thing about the Doctor on her birthday. I know it starts out sad, but it gets better. Only happy endings in this house, gang.

The TARDIS felt cold.

Which is quite strange when you're an entity without a physical, biological body. Technically, the TARDIS shouldn't have been able to differentiate between hot and cold at all - just _within acceptable temperature parameters_ and _outside acceptable temperature parameters._

But now, the TARDIS felt _cold_.

Or, at least that was the closest human word she could come up with to describe the feeling.

(And maybe _feeling_ wasn't quite the right word either, but it was as close as she could get within the confines of human language).

Now, being telepathic in nature and smart enough to put two and two together, the TARDIS knew what was most likely the cause of this feeling.

Her Thief was sad.

And not just _sad_ \- the TARDIS couldn't quite place a name for the heavy-hollow feeling that was radiating off of the Timelord, it felt like the _absence_ of a feeling, more than anything - tired and sorrowful and all-encompassing and both unfathomably big and absolutely empty at the same time.

Maybe it was hopelessness. This wasn't something the TARDIS was that familiar with, so she wasn't sure, but she understood the concept - and at the moment, it seemed like all the hope had been drained out of her thief, leaving just a terribly hollow, aching emptiness in it's place.

And the TARDIS didn't like this at all.

She knew her Thief had a habit of hoarding negative feelings and letting them fester, this wasn't the first time it had happened, or the last, but it was unpleasant all the same. And she wanted to fix it.

Now, not having a physical, biological body had its limitations - meaning, the TARDIS couldn't do much to comfort her Thief when she had closed off her mind from any telepathic communication from the ship, and seemed to blatantly ignore all offers of nice things the TARDIS tried to put in her way.

(Namely, this included cooking up some minor mechanical problems for the Timelord to tinker with when her hands got restless, leaving out old favorite books where she would find them, trying to get her into places where she would run into some of her old friends, hoping to bring back some old comfort and happiness, and keeping a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits ready at all times. None of this seemed to help much).

Lately, her Thief had closed herself off from both the TARDIS and the humans onboard. Physically, and mentally.

The humans had tried to help, too, and the TARDIS appreciated the help; she wasn't sure how she felt about these new humans yet, but looking out for her Thief seemed like a good sign.

The smiley one with the dark dreams and long hair that kept getting into the drainage system had tried to get the Thief to sit down over a cup of tea and talk about what was going on. Tried to get her to stop running.

This hadn't worked, of course, but it was a nice gesture nevertheless.

The one that liked lukewarm pickle sandwiches had tried the same thing, more or less; he had talked to her Thief, said that it's okay (the TARDIS wasn't sure what the _it_ in question was, exactly, but human terminology was strange and confusing).

Her Thief had let her guard down a little, at the time, letting her old age show in her eyes for once, but hadn't said much.

The one that kept asking if he could inspect the inner mechanics of the TARDIS ( _no_ , but it was nice that he asked; her Thief never asked) had sat with her silently as the Timelord took apart and fixed some machine or the other - not trying to get her to talk, instead just sitting there and handing her tools when she asked, keeping her company.

The TARDIS could feel her Thief relax, a little, some of the terrible coldness melting away, but she was still consciously buffering away all attempts at comfort, human and telepathic space-time ship alike.

And the TARDIS was starting to run out of options on what to do.

(Or, not _options_ , exactly, there were plenty of those, but the category ‘ _things that would result in a positive outcome’_ was considerably more narrow).

And she knew that this version of her Thief had a sweet tooth, and while baked goods might not fill the hollowness that seemed to have nestled into her chest, they might at least make the whole situation a little more bright temporarily.

So the TARDIS decided to cook up a cake. A birthday cake. Those were the happiest kind.

According to her research, birthday cakes were often present when positive feelings were being experienced. 

So she rearranged some atoms in the pantry to assemble a birthday cake, decorated with bits of sweet, colorful things and 13 candles, placed it in her Thief's next birthday, and left it waiting on the kitchen table.

(Not that the Thief knew when her own birthday was, she had stopped keeping track of that a long time ago. But in this relationship the TARDIS had always been the one that kept track of things anyways, and she had a whole bunch of her Thief's birthdays neatly cataloged away - including this one).

The human that always wakes up first wakes up first. He makes tea and reads the old Earth newspaper the TARDIS kept in her records. He notices the cake, of course, but doesn't comment on it - not verbally, at least - and instead just picks up a pair of reading classes and spends a moment reading through the old Earth paper. The human shivers a little, and the TARDIS raises the temperature of the room slightly.

Next, the long-haired one finds her way to the kitchen. She, too, gets a cup of tea.

"Did you make that?" She asks, voice laced with suspicion.

"Nope. That was already there when I got here."

The other human sits down too, lifting her feet off of the floor and curling them up on the seat under her. "Looks like a birthday cake."

"It does. It's not your birthday, is it, love?"

She shakes her head. "Nope."

"Hm."

The short-haired reading glasses -wearing human turns his attention back to the newspaper.

"Where do you think it came from?" The other human asks, wrapping her hands around her teacup.

"Well, I didn't make it, you didn't make it, and I reckon Ryan didn't make it either. There aren't many things that could get that boy out of bed before sunrise, and I don't think impulsive baking is one of them."

She considers this for a moment. "You think the Doctor did it?"

The one with the newspaper shrugs. "Dunno. Looks colorful enough, doesn't it?"

The other one smiles, and sips her tea.

They sit in silence for a moment or so, and then her Thief walks into the room, too.

"Morning, fam! Everyone sleep okay?" She says, and it sounds happy, but it feels hollow. 

Then, she notices the cake.

"Oh, cake! I love cake! Did you make this?"

For a moment, the TARDIS could sense something warm and golden spark in her Thief, but it isn't much, and fades quickly.

The humans both shake their heads.

"Was already here when I woke up." The pickle sandwich one says.

The TARDIS can feel her Thief frown, for just the split second it takes for her brain to knit together the pieces of information.

"So you didn't make it either?" The other human asks. "Do you know where it came from?"

Her Thief turns towards the cupboards. It's partially to dig up a mug for herself, but mostly it's just so she has an excuse to hide her face.

"No." She says after a silence that was just half a second too long, her voice a little shallow. 

The humans look at each other.

"Doctor, is it your birthday today?"

"Don't know. Lost track. It's a bit tricky when you're a time traveler." Then, she breathes out and lets her shoulders relax.

The Doctor was tired. And she didn't necessarily like this, the whole birthday thing, but. She was _tired_ , and the TARDIS was just trying to do something nice.

And the inherent message of the gesture, _I remember and I care_ , made something warm swell in her hearts. It was _nice_.

The Doctor swallows, and turns to face the humans. "Must be, if the TARDIS made me a cake." She gives them a smile that isn't quite as bright as it could be, but it's getting there. "And even if it isn't, this is still a nice surprise. Cake for breakfast?" She offers, some of the familiar warmth returning to her voice.

The long-haired human grins. "I'll go get Ryan. Graham, you light the candles."


End file.
